Aftermath
by Sketty24
Summary: X2. What if Magneto had not arrived in time to stop the plummet of the XJet? The crash they all expected was bound to have occurred. But one of the mutants knew they could survive it, whilst the rest.. they had no chance.


My take on what would happen in the X-Jet falling scene in X2 if Magneto hadn't had been there to stop the aircraft crashing. Starts with X2 scene.

**AFTERMATH **

"How far are we?" came Logan's voice as he made his way to the front of the silver X-Jet. He leant on the top of Jean's pilot seat, staring out of the windscreen ahead, even though the view was limited amongst clouds. The distant horizon held the glow of the setting sun, throwing a honeyed pink hue over the sky.

Jean answered him as she checked some controls, "We're actually coming up on the mansion now," she then glanced up at him; meeting his intense gaze that she was sure had been upon her all the while she spoke.

Just then, the radar on the control panel beeped twice, and Storm quickly looked down, "I've got two signals approaching, coming in fast."

With another beep, a communication link connected with the X-Jet and a voice rose out of the speaker, "Unidentified aircraft, you are ordered to descend to 20,000ft. Return with our escort is Hanscom Air Force Base. You have ten seconds to comply."

Frowning, Storm glanced up, "Wow, somebody's angry."

"I wonder why," said Logan with a snort, throwing Pyro a dark glare over his shoulder.

"We are coming up alongside you to escort you to Hanscom Air Force Base. Lower your altitude now." On either side of the jet, RAF fighter planes came into view. On the left, the pilot within gestured with a hand for descent. "Repeat: lower your altitude to 20,000ft. This is your last warning."

Storm kept her hands at the control, the jet remaining firmly at the same height. Their pursuers slowed their flight.

"They're falling back," noted Storm, relief beginning to creep into her face. Just then, the control panel before them resumed it's beeping, only this time, continuing incessantly. The relief Storm's face showed disappeared instantly, "They're marking us!" she gasped, voice in disbelief.

"What?" Logan quickly said, the words not meaning much to him.

With a set determination, her hands gripped the controls, "They're gonna fire, hang on!" she called over her shoulder. The jet suddenly speeded up, the force sending Logan backwards in a stumble, before he collapsed into his seat where he buckled up. "I'm gotta shake 'em."

The jet raced across the darkening sky, slipping forward with ease. Then, without warning, the aircraft spiralled to one side, rolling over and successfully to throwing the marking of the army pilots. The jet straightened its path, continuing onward.

"Please don't do that again," murmured Pyro, who was gripping his seat tightly.

"I agree," came Logan's reply, who took looked a little shaken by the experience. As the jet roared on across the sunset sky, Logan raised his head. "Don't we have any weapons in this heap?"

And as if in answer, Storm's eyes began to turn white, clouding over her pupils. The sky around them progressively built up with fierce looking clouds, darkening the last remaining rays of the sun. Cyclones slowly extended out of the mass of rolling clouds, spiralling downwards in thick grey chutes. She navigated the jet through the numerous cyclones that now surrounded them, slipping and swooping through in sharp but clean zigzags that the pursuing aircrafts could not compete against.

Behind them, the following planes struggled through the tortuous weather, and eventually, two small shapes burst free of the planes, plummeting to earth until an emergency parachute opened to guide them safely.

The raging storm of cyclones calmed, and Storm straightened the jet once more, her eyes returning back to their normal hue. Jean looked round over her shoulder, "Everybody OK back there?"

"No," muttered Logan, deciding that question was one that covered his sickness too.

The gentle silence that had settled over them was broken once more as the radar displayed two new signals racing their way. Storm's eyed widened, "Oh my God – there's two of them!" The last of the pilots are not ejected from her plane without a fight, for she had fired two rocket launchers, marked for the jet alone.

Besides her, in the co-pilot seat, Jean's face hardened as she concentrated. She knew she could do this; she just had to believe in herself. Her head ached the harder to tried, her mutation angrily objecting to the forceful telekinesis she had never reached before. The distance rumble of an exploding rocket launcher proved that Jean had been disabling one of the fired weapons.

But Storm noted the problem Jean was all too aware of, "There's one more! Jean?" she looked across to her friend, praying that she could do the same.

Jean fought against the oncoming weapon, her head screaming in pain. Then like a delicate thread, her control slipped and she let out a gasp, "Oh God!" she'd lost it. Storm fearfully stared at her, but couldn't answer, for there was a horrendous explosion and the roof at the back of the jet was blown apart.

Wind rushed inside, howling and screeching as it shook the jet. The mutants clung onto their seats as the jet spiralled out of control, plummeting in its flight. A high-pitched scream pierced the air, and Storm glanced back only to see a dark figure be sucked through the gaping hole. Her inner questions were confirmed as she heard Bobby scream; "No! ROGUE!"

Logan's head whipped back, "No!" he cried, eyes wildly staring at the rattling hole in the roof. Nightcrawler looked back, giving a determined intake a breath before he disappeared in a cloud of blue smoke. There were a few seconds before he reappeared, holding Rogue tightly to his body as he sat on the floor in-between the pilot seats.

With relief at Rogue's return, Storm turned her mind back to controls, desperately trying to slow their fall and regain flight once more. Her hands trembled on the levers, her eyes wide and staring at the ground, which raced closer.

Jean shared her desperation at the controls, but there was no use, no matter what she did, psychically or telepathically, the jet would not slow its fall. Fighting back tears, she looked round at the other mutants in the jet, her eyes meeting Logan. He regarded with forlorn eyes before he turned his head away. She understood what it meant. The impact would kill them all, except Logan. He knew that, and he hated it.

There ground hurtled closer. There was a smack of the tips of trees hitting the windscreen and Storm threw her head up. Her body ran sick with dread as the dark ground came upon their windscreen. The force rocked the jet, buckling its front and sending the engine hurtling into a colossal blaze. The jet cartwheel out of control, it's nose flipping upward as the jet struck the earth. Screams on impact were drowned out almost immediately by the roar of flames, but Logan could not tell if they had stopped of their own accord, or simply couldn't be heard anymore. He didn't dare open his eyes when the movement of the jet finally stopped. But as he felt the roaring flames tickle harrowingly his feet, he knew he had no choice.

Blazing flames surrounded him, blinding his view of many of the other mutants. He wrenched back his seatbelt, staggering to his feet as he stared at the destruction. Those who had remained in their seats lay slumped against their belts. Logan stumbled across the smooth flooring, struggling since the jet had landed at an angle. He did not look at any faces as he hands made a grab for one of the bodies, he threw it over his shoulder, then grabbing another out of it's seat and hoisting them over his other shoulder. He staggered to the back of the jet, forcing his way out of the gaping hole and running across the grass.

His body was wounded and bloodied, but he paid no mind to his injuries. He fought on, ignoring the searing pains that ran up his left calf on every odd step. Reaching a safe distance from the jet, he dropped the two bodies down, recognising them as Bobby and Pyro. He turned on his heel, running back towards the jet. He scrambled inside, bracing the heat ad flames as he climbed up the diagonal flooring. His hands fought for leverage on the swaying seats, hoisting himself higher to pull the nearest two bodies towards him. Nightcrawler and Storm. He repeated his earlier actions, hurrying back out of the jet to rest them with the others.

His next return was his last, pulling Jean's limp form out of her seat. Holding her against one shoulder, he stared around the wreckage. He knew Rogue hadn't been protected by seatbelt, and feared for her whereabouts. Nightcrawler had been thrown far from the position between the seats. Then he saw her; her small body slumped over the controls in a horribly twisted position.

Fighting to ignore the blood on her face, he grabbed her with his hand, picking her up with the back of her shirt before hoisting her onto his shoulder. Stabilising the two with his strong arms, he braved the flames and unstable debris once more, skidding and slipping back down the slope of the jet's floor before he stumbled out of the ripped hole, sprinting across the grass to the trees. He lowered the two to the floor, panting heavily as he straightened, turning and staring at the mangled jet as it lay against the trees, propped on it's tail with it's nose tip skyward in the boughs of a tree.

Flames continued to engulf the aircraft as it lay pitifully at an angle, it's nose propped up on a large tree. Logan stood in a dumbfound silence, eyes observing the explosions the rocked the jet in it's motions. He slowly turned around, staring at the bodies he had brought out. He crouched down besides Rogues, eyes finally watching the blood that marked her face from the shattered glass of the windscreen. Swelling textured her once smooth features, her right eyes closed and bruised.

Fighting back tears, Logan slowly brushed her hair from her face, realising with a horrific stab of cold in his gut that there were no lure of her mutation when his bare fingers brushed her forehead. A heavy sigh breathed shakily from his lips as he rose from her side, eyes travelling over the others that lay on the grass.

His gaze met Bobby's, who lay sprawled on his back; eyes wide open and glassed as he stared unseeingly at the heavens. Logan slowly made his way over, about to put those dullened eyes to rest when something wonderful came to his ears.

A gasp.

Breathing?

Someone was alive!

His eyes span across the group, searching desperately for the one who had made the sound. Near the tree base lay Jean on her front, her pants continuing shakily. Logan carefully stepped towards her before he lowered himself. His hands delicately took her face, pushing hair out of her face so she could see him, "Jean?"

"I couldn't stop it," gasped Jean, wide fearful eyes staring at him. "I couldn't do it. I tried. But it slipped, it went – "

"There's nothing you can do now," said Logan softly as he watched her, his eyes tracing her bloodied features, which had been marred by the glass of the broken windscreen.

Jean took another rattling gasp of air, the effort enormous and pained. "It's all my fault."

"No it's not," insisted Logan, his hands tightening a little. "Jean, you've got to listen to me."

He could see her gaze weakening a little, she fought to keep her eyes upon him, but they were slipping out of focus. She raised a gloved hand, gripping Logan's wrist tightly. She took another great breath, this one sounding more painful than before. "I couldn't do it," she repeated with a tearful tremble in her rasped words.

"Jean, you've got to listen to me. Stay with me!" He saw her eyes slipping again, losing their concentration. "Jean, look at me! You can do this! There's no one else left, I need you here!"

"Forgive me."

"Jean.."

But she didn't respond, and her staring eyes continued to bore into his blindly. Logan's hands gently left Jean's face, lowering her head back to the floor with utmost care. He staggered back from the bodies that he had been so determined to pull free, even though he knew the effort was futile. But he couldn't leave them to burn to nothing.

He felt his heart ramming faster than any adrenaline-fused fight he had ever been in It tore and ached with every deafening pound. His limbs continued to tremble, legs weak to walk on. He turned his back on the scene of death, and tried to walk a few steps, but his legs gave in completely and he sunk to his knees with a low moan. His hands held his head as though wishing this was just another of those stomach churning nightmares he could wake up out of.

But the distant roar of the flames, the lingering scent of smoke and blood proved that it wasn't. He rubbed the base of his palms deep against his eyes till they stung in deviation to the painful punishment.

He had known, right from when he felt his stomach swoop in the plummeting of the jet, that he would be the last man standing. He knew his adamantium structure, his healing factor, would protect him from the carnage as they crashed into the earth at eye watering speeds.

And he hated it.

To die as a team was honourable, but to be the unwilling survivor was sin.

* * *

My idea on what could have happened if Magneto had happened to have been a little late! Did you like it? Please review. Itwasoriginally a one-shot, but I had ideas on where to take it next if you're interested.


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